Hands
by Dragon Ashes
Summary: POST-MANGA. A frustrated Inuyasha ponders all his hands stand for, and all that they have done. Kagome takes the opportunity to tell him just what his hands mean to her.


Yes, I have (finally) decided to post something. Enjoy!

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**Hands**

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_My hands are nothing special._

_They are the hands of a survivor. I used them constantly as I grew up alone: my only providers. When hunting was good they skinned rabbit and wild boar; when prey failed they picked berries and fruit; when the bounty of the forest deserted me they stole from the store-rooms of humans and the pack-holes of demons; when starvation set in they dug up roots and grass to give me the strength to live just one more hour…one more day._

_They are the hands of a monster. They would rip apart friend and foe alike, if I gave them free reign to do so. They're filthy, covered in sweat and mud and blood and guts from humans and demons alike. A thousand years of scrubbing could not rid these hands of their stains…or their stench. I will never forget when they were covered with Kagome's blood that fateful day, the day our enemy told me I had killed her with these hands._

_They are the hands of a warrior. They have bled freely many times…so many times…in defense of my pack. I have killed anyone who dared threaten them, with these hands and my father's fang that I have made my own. And when I was done, when no one was left alive to threaten my pack, I used these hands to send home its most important member: Kagome. My Kagome…_

_They are the hands of a lover. I only used them a few times in the days when Kikyo lived and protected the Shikon no Tama, for Kikyo despised them for the yokai blood that ran in their veins. But I remember still, on our last day together, how I caught her in the evening twilight as she fell towards me, in a rare moment of weakness and clumsiness…and how I embraced her, careful to keep my filthy hands as far away from her pure body as our position would allow. I remember longing to reach out and touch her, but always knowing that she would shudder in revulsion and pull away if I were to ever try._

_Now these hands belong to another, the warm reincarnation of the cold miko I once thought I loved. They have carried her in ways I longed to carry Kikyo, and touched her in places I would never have allowed myself to dream touching anyone. But Kagome never minded; in fact, she encouraged it. She allowed her hands to linger on mine as she passed me ramen on those nights around the campfire. She never questioned when my hands rode up a little higher than necessary when carrying her on my back. When I was troubled, she took her own hands – those pure hands that had never touched another man – and placed my filthy hanyo hands on her own body, comforting me with touch. It was never anything scandalous (the monk would not have been impressed by anything we did), but those light, innocent touches on the hands, the back, the hair of the woman I love meant more to me than any grope ever meant to Miroku._

_These hands brought her back to me. I will never know what first alerted me to her presence – whether my nose caught her scent or my ears picked up her sweet laughter echoing out from the depths of the cursed, blessed, terribly wonderful well – but I will always remember reaching my hand into the dark, yawning hole in the ground, hoping beyond hope that I had not finally gone crazy. And sure enough, another, softer, gentler hand immediately found its way into mine. A perfect fit._

_Recently, though, these hands simply cannot keep still. Yes, Kagome has returned; but that has caused a few problems I never had to face. Before, I only had to deal with memories; pleasant, unforgettable memories, but memories nonetheless. Now, I have a real living person. And as it turns out, a real person is much more…attractive…than a memory._

_A memory doesn't walk around in a stunningly attractive outfit, hips swaying in an innocently seductive rhythm as she goes about her daily duties._

_A memory doesn't bend over just a __little__ too far while gardening, even though she __knows__ I can see her._

_A memory doesn't work me into a panic by sneaking out of the village to go look for rare herbs and medicines._

_A memory doesn't torment me with soft sighs as she whispers with the taiji-ya and her other friends in the village as she discusses the joys and pains of marriage and family._

_A memory doesn't have a damn scent that drives me up a tree._

_A memory doesn't have a gentle little voice that always manages to coax me __out__ of that tree…_

_A memory doesn't have hands…hands that always somehow find their way into mine…_

"Inuyasha!" A panicked voice jolted the daydreaming hanyo from his thoughts, followed by a wide-eyed young woman in miko attire. "Are you okay?" Gentle hands tugged at his own, forcing his attention to them.

It was only then that he noticed that his lengthy _yokai_ nails had cruelly embedded themselves in his soft _ningen_ palm. Kagome was gently working his claws out, trying to cause as little pain as possible. "You really need to stop doing this to yourself, Inuyasha," she scolded him gently, concern clouding her deep brown eyes as they met his stubborn amber ones.

"Keh," was his only response. He watched, fascinated, as his recently-returned love wrapped a few of the bandages she was carrying around his hands with a delicate touch, as she had patched him up so many times before. And though he hated to admit it, her medical skills (which she was now wasting on his puny hand-holes that would heal in less than a day) had likely saved his life more than once. After all, his _yokai _blood only helps if it's actually inside his body…

Kagome's hands were everything his could never be. They were innocent. They were soft. They were gentle. They were caring. They were weak…and yet, strong in ways he could never imagine.

A soft – and dare he think loving? – voice startled him out of his reverie. "There you go, Inuyasha; all better," Kagome murmured, running her fingers gently over the bandages. "But you've got to quit hurting yourself! Yesterday it was your foot, the day before you were mauling your arms…really, can you go a day without covering your own claws in your blood?" Her hands found their way to his shoulders as her eyes locked with his, holding his entire being in a gentle, yet surprisingly powerful hold.

"Keh, do you think I do it for fun?" Eyes averted, head turned, hand went to brush away her smaller ones. She really should never know why he kept drawing his own blood…what the pain kept him from thinking, from saying, from _doing_…he clenched his fists (more gently this time), but they rebelliously protested the slight movement.

Apparently, his attempts at hiding his slight wince of pain didn't work on her. "Oh Inuyasha…" she sighed, gathering one of his bandaged appendages in her own. Then, blissfully unaware of the curious eyes watching her every movement, she slowly brought his hand – his blood-stained, treacherous, _hanyo_ hand – up to her rose-petal lips and…and…

_Oh…_

Inuyasha closed his eyes as a shudder ran through his entire body. She…she was…

Kagome must have noticed his expression, because she gave a light chuckle before repeating the process with his other hand.

"I've always loved your hands, Inuyasha."

He turned to her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

"These hands that keep me safe…"

He was tempted to turn away, sickening memories rising of when these hands had _not _kept her safe…when they had been bathed in _her_ blood…his eyes pressed shut to block out the images.

"…keep me warm…"

He tried not to shiver from the sudden lack of heat as her hands left his.

"…keep me…"

The hands instantly reappeared on either side of his face, drawing a startled gasp from his throat. What was she…

"…loved."

His eyes opened again, only to find that she was a _lot_ closer than she had been…

Slowly, deliberately, those same lips that had caressed away all the pain in his hands touched his own.

And as his hands wrapped around her back, tangling in her soft tresses, he felt that his hands might actually be something special after all…

.oO0Oo.

I always knew Inuyasha was secretly eloquent…even if it never gets past his fluffy little ears…

So…original title, ne? But you've got to admit, it fits.

Now that you've satisfied your sweet tooth with that piece of cotton candy, perhaps you'll check out one of my other stories…? They need serious revision, but I assure you it's on my list. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks for reading!


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